Apologies
by Sigerson
Summary: She sounded surprised for once, like she really hadn't expected to see him tonight. Set after The Long Goodbye, season two. Weir/Caldwell
1. Chapter 1

"Colonel Caldwell."

She sounded surprised for once, like she really hadn't expected to see him tonight. Maybe she honestly hadn't, seasoned diplomat though she was, if her current attire was any indication.

Freshly showered, Elizabeth wore only a plush white robe, haphazardly thrown on yet secured tightly at the waist. Caldwell tried desperately to ignore the way a few damp curls stuck to her bare throat, tried to ignore the droplets of water sliding down her pale chest.

It took Elizabeth a moment to realize that Caldwell hadn't responded to her greeting, and another moment to recognize his suddenly rigid posture for what it was - embarrassment.

"Please, come in." Her invitation interrupted him just as he'd opened his mouth to apologize for intruding on her evening, to insist he'd had nothing important to say, just felt like dropping by, then abruptly excuse himself and return swiftly to his quarters on the Daedalus.

But Elizabeth had made a beeline for her living room, a humid and fragrant shampoo cloud trailing behind her. So he followed her, not trusting himself to speak, allowing the doors to slide shut behind him.

She indicated her sofa, offered him a drink (which he politely declined), and then disappeared into her bedroom for a few moments. Once she was out of his sight, Steven's brain seemed to start working again. He swallowed against a sudden moment of panic._ God, what am I doing here? Chatting with a friend? Perving over her shampoo, more like. You're such a dipshit, Steve._

His thoughts were interrupted as Elizabeth returned, wearing a t-shirt and what looked like yoga pants. Steven tried not to notice whether she'd put on a bra or not. She had. Her hair was still wet. She folded her legs under herself as she gracefully sat down, facing him expectantly.

"I hope I'm not intruding, just showing up like this." He was delighted to find that his voice sounded normal and relatively calm.

"Not at all, Colonel." Her voice was even and measured like it always was, damn her. "Was there something you needed?"

He blushed slightly as he thought of how he actually wanted to answer her. _Yes, Elizabeth. I need to tell you that I'm sorry about the things that Goa'uld bastard said and did. I need to make it up to you. Ideally I'd like to do that by carnally pleasuring your body, you saucy, sexy bitch._

Rather than voice those particular thoughts, Caldwell crossed his long legs and rested his hands in his lap.

"I'm here to apologize, Doctor Weir."

"You already apologized," she reminded him, her voice softening. "You're in no way responsible for the actions of the Goa'uld symbiote, Steven."

"I know. But I was there. I saw everything he did, and I just..." He trailed off, watching with fascination as her hand covered his knee and gave it a brief squeeze. He couldn't help but notice how warm her touch was, and how cold his knee felt after her hand had left it.

"Elizabeth, I can't help but feel like I ought to do something. I want to make up for not being able to stop him while I was a host." He paused for effect, swallowed once, then softly murmured: "I want you to know that you can trust me."

"Is that all you came for?" He looked up, startled by how quickly she'd seen through his expertly crafted sincerity.

"No." He couldn't suppress his smirk, and she snorted a little.

"Then tell me what you came here in the middle of the night to tell me, Steven." Smooth and cool. All business this evening, our Doctor Weir.

"All right, but you asked for it." And then he was stumped. What to tell her first?

"I'm waiting." She quirked an eyebrow at him, challenging. He levelled his gaze at her.

"You're beautiful." Both eyebrows at her hairline now. He chuckled. "I've wanted to tell you that for ages. But the timing was never right, and then there was the whole problem with there being a snake controlling my brain. And then there was that ten-thousand-year-old psychopath controlling _your_ brain."

"But now's a good time?" Gentle, teasing.

"As good a time as any. Especially now that I've got Sheppard to watch out for. We all saw that kiss."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Colonel?" Teasing in earnest now, moving closer.

"More than a hint, Doctor."

And then she was kissing him, one hand at the back of his neck and the other curling around the zipper of his flight suit.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth had always suspected that Caldwell would be kind of a prude. She didn't know what to expect when she leaned over to kiss him, but she never guessed that he would wrap large, hot hands around her hips and pull her into his lap.

He was surprisingly vocal for such a reserved man. He moaned when she deepened their kiss, a reverberant, low sound that made her insides melt. A strangled little noise issued from his throat as she shifted to straddle him more comfortably.

Elizabeth found herself re-evaluating Caldwell. He seemed perfectly content to let her run the show, a refreshing change of pace from his overbearing professional demeanor. His kisses were gentle, exploratory.

His hands did not presume to venture under her clothes, but they did skim slowly over her thighs, then up the sides of her ribcage, leaving her skin hot and tingling as he learned the contours of her body.

In fantasies, she had imagined he would use his size to intimidate, even dominate her. A demanding, aggressive Caldwell, pinning her against the wall of her office late at night. All hard muscle and power, taking her, taking control.

Elizabeth's inner feminist was disgusted by just how much _that _little fantasy thrilled her. She wasn't exactly disappointed by how gentle he was, but she'd had enough gentle from Simon to last her a lifetime.

Maybe if she asked Caldwell nicely, he would be a little less gentle. Maybe if she begged him, he would even be rough with her.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Caldwell dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips, grinding himself up into her heat. It took Elizabeth a moment to realize that the colonel hadn't suddenly developed psychic powers - she had bitten him. Pretty hard, from the looks of his neck.

And he'd liked it.

Trying to ignore the near-debilitating wave of arousal that tore through her, Elizabeth turned her attention to the project of opening up his flight suit. Her hands shook as she dragged the zipper down over his muscled chest, breathing hot kisses through the thin fabric of his undershirt as she went. Caldwell watched her intently, trying to control his ragged breathing.

She had to get off him in order to guide the zipper over his tented briefs, and once she had released his straining erection from his fly, she stood back to admire her handiwork.

A flushed and thoroughly kissed Colonel Steven Caldwell sat before her, dark eyes glittering. She took her time removing her clothes, noting with satisfaction his sudden intake of breath when he saw that she hadn't bothered to put on panties.

Elizabeth straddled his hips again, and he greeted her with a searing kiss, reaching around her back to unclasp her bra. She gasped as he brought large, calloused palms up to her bared breasts, her bra flung to parts unknown. He showered her chest in hungry, open-mouthed kisses, occasionally dragging his teeth over the tender flesh.

Pushing his open flight suit over his broad shoulders and down his arms, Elizabeth trapped Caldwell's hands at his sides. He paused his ministrations and met her gaze.

"Steven." Her voice was roughened with obvious lust, and she tried not to blush as his face broke into a smug grin. She pressed on.

"I just want you to know that I'm not usually... you know. Like this. With men."

Silence.

"Elizabeth, _please_." His strained plea told her everything she needed to know. He didn't for a moment doubt her moral standards. He wanted her. Wanted her badly enough to beg. He definitely planned to stick around afterwards.

Decision made, she freed his wrists from the flight suit and guided him to her heat, a moan escaping her lips as he slid home.

Caldwell prayed he'd last more than a few minutes. As he began to make short, deep thrusts, he took one of her nipples into his mouth.

It was as if a dam had broken. The ever-eloquent Elizabeth Weir was writhing on top of him, cursing like a sailor. Her keening rose in pitch as he sucked and nibbled at the hardened buds of her nipples, his thrusts coming harder and faster.

He could feel a dense heat coiling in his gut. Determined to outlast her, Steven brought his thumb to their slick joining and started rubbing in fast circles.

"_Fuck, _Caldwell." The extra stimulation sent Elizabeth crashing over the edge, her body shaking. Her inner muscles clamped down on him, almost painfully hard. He rode out the spasms of her orgasm until his own overtook him. He came hard, his shouting thankfully muffled by the breast in his mouth.

Elizabeth collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. He held her, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

When she had recovered somewhat, she pulled away from his shoulder to find two dark brown eyes, half-lidded and lustful, looking back at her. She smiled, her hands sliding down to rest on his broad chest.

"Hello," he said softly. The edge of uncertainty in his tone was not lost on Elizabeth. She captured his lips in a gentle, searching kiss, fingertips lacing at the back of his neck. His flagging erection stirred within her.

"You know," he began, then seemed to think better of it.

"Mm?"

"It's just... when you said my name."

"Mm."

"Screamed it, actually."

"Go on."

"Well, call me old fashioned, but I would think that penetration puts us on a first name basis."

Elizabeth laughed. She stood, gingerly, surprised by how sore she was.

"Come to bed, Steven."

And he did.


End file.
